Tell Me No, I'll Show You Yes
by infiniteworld8
Summary: Sam and Dean take a break from a case at the local bar. While there a guy takes a liking to Sam, Dean finds it funny at first until things get out of hand.
1. Chapter 1

Dean signaled to the bartender for two more beers and appreciatively watched as the woman walked away. Her jeans were just tight enough to give him a show while she busied herself pulling out bottles and bending over to snag another bag of bar snacks.

"Dean will you focus?"

He didn't even bother to turn at his brother's request. Dean has spent half the day researching and interviewing families and wanted a little downtime. Just because Sam thought running full tilt to solve every problem they came across would take away, the pain of Jessica's death didn't mean it would.

"Sam will _you_ ease up?"

"Dean there have been three murders in this town just since we got here and you're—"

"Taking a fucking break. Dad always said."

"You want to quote dad all the time? well _Dad_ would—"

"Have known when to take a break."

Sam had his classic bitchface on and Dean couldn't bring himself to care. He needed some downtime, between Sam's visions, trying to mop up Sam's emotional fallout that was Jessica's death, and dealing with their father's death Dean was spent.

He wanted to yell at Sam but instead, grabbed the bottle the bartender was sliding towards him and slid the other one towards Sam. "Shut up, drink your beer and try not to be a spoilsport. Some of us need to let of a little steam and that waitress is —"

"Married. She's got a wedding ring and I saw her 10th anniversary announcement in the newspaper, plus she's not flirting with you…I'd say happily married."

Dean turned at that. Sam looked smug. "Fuck you Sam."

In the end , Dean wasn't having any success with the woman and Sam's insistence wore him down. So they retreated to the end of the bar and discussed the case. "The only thing we don't know is why Lucy Miller was up at Portage Creek. If—"

"I could tell you why. Always happy to help out…"

Dean snapped his head around at the voice. Only to find a man had crept up on him and joined the conversation. "We don't need your—" Dean started to say, too irritated that the man had somehow snuck up on him to care what information he had.

Sam stopped his irritated diatribe."Don't mind Dean he's had a long day." Dean gritted his teeth and took a swig of his beer, letting Sam go through with the requisite lies about their names .

The man had a stocky build and limp greasy black hair, his name was Billy and it became obvious soon enough that he wasn't there to give his help. Billy, spun a wayward story about the legend of Portage Creek and how the towns kids sometimes dared each other to go there. It didn't matter they already knew the legend, and Billy's explanation still didn't account for why a 17 year old girl had decided to hike alone over 10 miles into the mountains on foot.

The incongruities didn't matter to Billy, he was more concerned with Sam. Apparently, Billy had been out in California near Stanford and knew the haunts near there. Dean wasn't even sure how the man had found out since Sam seemed determined to forget everything about his life over the past years except Jessica, and yet here he was spilling his guts to Billy.

Something about Billy rubbed Dean the wrong way, but he kept it too himself. At least Sam was socializing and not fixated on hunting down and killing Azazel and every other monster they could find.

"Bring another drink for my friends here. Make it double for Sam he needs to loosen up." Dean nearly choked on his liquor at what happened next. As the drinks came Billy slipped a hand on Sam's thigh and none to subtly leaned closer. "You work out a lot?"

"Uh—yeah—some. I—"

Dean nearly snorted as he got confirmation. He had suspected Billy was playing for the other team but here was proof. The _Information_ had just been a ploy to get closer to Sam. Dean considered jumping in but Sam was a big boy and could take care of himself, plus Dean was laughing internally as Sam became more and more flustered.

"If your thighs this hard, I'll bet the rest of you is feels even better." He slipped his hand higher edging towards Sam's groin and Sam jerked away from the touch like he had been burned. "Maybe later we'll go back to my place and have a little fun?"

Sam's face was bright red, but at this new development he made a choking noise and spat a mouthful of liquor out on the bar counter. He was still sputtering as he managed to get out. "Yeah, you know what—Billy—I'm sure you're a great guy but I'm not interested and—"

Billy laughed, slapping Sam on the back. "Playing hard to get kid huh?" He stood up. "I'll be back, gotta take a leak. "

Billy walked away, and judging by the stiff legged gait and the bulge in his Jeans Dean was more than sure just what Billy was going to take care of and it wasn't a full bladder.

Once Billy had disappeared to the back of the bar , Dean started laughing. "Looks like you've got an admirer Sam." He added still chuckling. "Didn't know my little brother swung that way."

"Shut up." Sam took a large swig of his beer, and rolled the bottle between his hands for a few moments before answering. "He's just-Jessica had some gay friends—I don't care about that. He's just—"

"Weird." Dean finished it for him. "Apparently he senses your weird, geek boy and thinks your mutual weirdness would mesh well together." Dean chortled.

"Bite me Dean."

"Sounds like Billy wants to do that for you."

Sam started to retort but never got the chance as Billy dropped back down. Sam cut off Billy's newest round of flirtations with an uncomfortable. "I'm really not interested."

Maybe it was his imagination but Dean thought he saw a flicker of irritation in Billy's eyes before the look was replaced by amused determination. "You're not interested now, or you're saying you're not interested because you're shy?"

Sam pleaded off again, and Billy settled down turning the conversation back to Stanford. Billy seemed to back off but Dean didn't notice the small packet of powder he tipped in Sam's drink. Over the next few minutes Dean watched Sam seemingly turn an about face.

He was laughing a little too loud and Billy's jokes were definitely not that funny. As if that wasn't weird Sam was leaning closer to Billy and allowing the man to do the same to him. "Anybody ever tell you how nice your hair is Sam, so light and shiny."

"Yeah, I've heard that." Sam's voice was somewhat slurred and Dean found that odd because while he considered Sam to be a lightweight he had only a beer or two. Sam's face fell as he looked like some harsh memory had crossed his mind. "Jess…she…used to say that."

Things were getting creepier by the minute because now Sam face had twisted into the expression that Dean had known since he was four years old. Sam was about to cry. Drunkenness aside Sam wouldn't be crying in the middle of a bar while practically leaning on some creepy weird guy. Billy moved closer sweeping Sam's hair back from where it was fallen into his face and leaning closer so his lips were barely an inch from Sam's neck. "Don't you cry, Sammy boy. I'll make you feel so good you'll forget all about her."

He punctuated his words with slipping his hand down from Sam's elbow and towards his groin. Billy's hand found his destination and gave a squeeze.

"I'm—"

Billy cut his words off by abruptly forcing Sam's lips against his own and moving his hand from the outside of Sam's clothes to down the waistband of his jeans.

Dean was confused and a little worried now. It wasn't his place to judge if Sam wanted to be with a guy but all his alarm were ringing now. Sam had protested multiple times before he started acting weird and even now he obviously didn't want Billy's attention but Sam wasn't doing more than weakly resisting as the man practically fondled him.

"Be a good little boy for Billy." Sam mumbled something and Billy laughed. "'Billy always rewards his good boys."

Dean had heard enough. It was clear Billy was more than a guy looking for a lay. He obviously thought Sam was young and judging by what the man was saying Dean was more than willing to bet Billy didn't care just how young the _boys_ he had _fun_ with were. He knew the type, in fact he had become intimately familiar with them over the years of barely 20 dollars for a few weeks of food and a hungry little brother.

He wanted to punch Billy but he settled for grabbing the man's wrist as he groped farther down Sam's jeans eliciting a groan from Sam…Dean didn't want to think if it was from pain or something else. "Leave him alone you asshole."

"Stay out of this, your friend knows what he wants."

"Get your fucking hands off." Dean wrenched Billy's hands away. Sam was listing to the side now, looking confused.

"S'—stop -'ighting" Sam slurred.

"Listen to him, and get your fucking hands off me."

Dean didn't answer. Instead, he swung on Billy, unfortunately the blow went awry as Sam flopped forward.

Sam was trying to say something. "D'n I—I"

Dean couldn't answer because his punch had landed in the face of another bar patron and Billy had taken advantage of the commotion to land his own blow. Blood was trickling from Dean's nose and an irate man was currently cursing him out for spilling his drinks.

The whole thing turned into a bar fight that ended with half the bar in shambles .

Dean ignored the blood smeared across his face and the faint trickle he could feel in the back of his throat. He had something more important to worry about, Billy was gone…and Sam was too. After a quick check of the bathrooms, and the back rooms Dean was even more freaked out.

Billy obviously hadn't wanted Sam for anything good and Sam wasn't in any state to fight him off. He rushed out the bar, ignoring the threat that the bartender was calling the cops if he came back. The street was deserted outside and Dean was ready to rip his hair out.

He forced himself to slow down and think. Billy wasn't local and Sam even with being drugged was still a 6'4" giant. Dragging him into a car would have been a big undertaking, and yet Billy had been talking about going back to his place. Dean hesitated wondering should he get the impala and search or look nearby. The decision was taking from him. He heard a moan faintly in the distance and even if the words were incoherent he would recognize until the day he died Sam's voice. His brother sounded scared and confused.

Dean thought about calling out to Sam, but if he did, he would alert Billy and who knew what the man would do then. If he was near a car he might get Sam into it before Dean had a chance to get to them.

He took off running and found himself at the beginning of a dark alley. Sam was on his knees and Billy was standing in front of him, his jeans open. Dean nearly gagged at the scene. It was one he recognized well, these kind of pervs always liked these places, somewhere hidden and dirty where they could get what they wanted and walk away.

"You boys aren't reporters. Unless it's for your high school newspaper, you can't be no more than eighteen, if that. " Billy gripped Sam's hair holding him in place so his head was tipped back and Sam's mouth was at the right angle as Billy pushed in and out. "Shouldn't lie with that dirty little mouth of yours."

Sam sounded like he was gagging and Dean didn't blame him. His own mouth was dry with the memory of what Sam was experiencing. It was a memory he knew well, entering poker and pool games as a young kid had been next to impossible but some other things were sickeningly easy.

"Don't bite down, or I'll slit your throat." Billy moved his hips more forcefully, thrusting, panting. He groaned and Sam gave a muffled whimper. Billy brought his other hand to Sam's cheek in a sick version of a caress "We'll finish up here and then test drive that pretty little ass of yours." Billy grunted as he said that, shuddering as his body reached its peak and Dean lost it. Billy was already pulling away. He turned at that moment and saw Dean.

"Fuck—"

That was all he got out. Dean unleashed all his anger. It was for what had happened to Sam ,for all that Billy had done and for all the Billy's that Dean himself had been forced to endure. By the end Billy was lying bloodied in the alleyway and Dean didn't care to check and see if the man was breathing. He was still partly undressed and lying too still but Dean didn't care.

He kneeled down next to Sam. Sam was mostly out of it. His eyes were half lidded, he had slumped back against the alley wall and his skin was slick with sweat

"D'n?" Sam mumbled, his eyes trying and failing to focus. He brought a hand up to his mouth as something sticky and white dribbled out. Dean wanted to throw up. Instead he used he took off his outer shirt and used it to wipe the mess off Sam's face and clothes, as he choked it up.

Sam was undressed too. His jeans open and partly tugged down, his genitals hanging out. Dean fixed Sam's clothes with trembling fingers and trying not to think about what Billy might have done before he settled down to business. He forced his voice to be calm as he practically dragged his brother upright. It was a long trip to the impala with Sam barely walking on his own and Dean supporting his weight, but somehow they made it.

Dean turned on the engine and looked at Sam who had passed out in the passenger seat. He didn't know how much of this Sam would remember when he woke up and but he knew when the drugs wore off it wouldn't be good.


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken Dean a few minutes to figure out what the pervasive buzzing noise was that just rose above the gentle hum of AC/DC. When he finally did, he reached back and snatched the duffel bag lying on the back seat only to find the EMF meter going haywire. They were in the Impala, which was safer from any ghostly activity than most churches due to the sheer number of consecrated items stashed throughout the vehicle. The meter was obviously broken.

Dean flicked the device off, tossing it carelessly in the bag again as Sam stirred. He had been doing that on and off since Dean had got him in the car, obviously trying to fight off the effects of what Billy had given him.

"D'n." Sam moaned his name once, then shifted and called out more urgently. "D'n?"

"I'm right here Sammy." Dean shifted his eyes away from the road for a moment to glance at his brother. Sam was bone white, his eyes half lidded, his breathing heavy, and his skin glistening with sweat. His fingers were fumbling with the door for some reason. "Calm down, it's okay."

Dean tried to make his voice soothing but he doubted that the anger he felt was anything more than barely disguised.

"T-too hot—can't breathe."

Dean took his eyes away from the road again, worriedly looking over Sam. He was still panting heavily like he was out of breath. Dean wondered just what Billy had dosed Sam with and how much…some date rape drugs were so powerful it wouldn't have been very hard to accidentally overdose even a giant like Sam.

"Can't breathe—'s too hot." Sam continued mumbling the words sounding more desperate by the second. Dean wondered momentarily if a trip to the hospital was worth it or not. Would anybody believe what had happened? Or would taking Sam in cause more trouble...it wasn't like Dean had the cleanest record, and if anybody recognized him he'd be in jail faster than someone could say handcuffs. Instead, Dean decided to wait it out and see how bad Sam got. He reached over, rolling down the window so the cool night air drifted in. Sam seemed to relax marginally at that settling back in the Impala's seat, but he was still alternately moaning and calling out Dean's name.

"Don' feel—good." Sam muttered a few minutes later. The sweat on his face had dried and now he was shivering hard. He seemed to be breathing easier, but if anything he looked even more miserable. Dean rolled the window back up and then pulled off his own jacket draping it over Sam.

"Just try to sleep kiddo."

Sam seemed to hunch down under the familiar smell of Dean's leather was still barely coherent but soon he drifted into an uneasy sleep, somehow managing to contort himself so his head wound up pillowed on Dean's thigh.

O_o

It was another half an hour before Dean managed to find a cheap motel that looked halfway decent to spend the night. Sam hadn't budged during the rest of the car ride and besides occasionally checking to make sure he was still breathing Dean let him sleep.

He turned the engine off and hovered for a few moments, not wanting to leave Sam alone in the car while he paid for the room but also realizing the necessity of letting him stay while he did so. Ultimately he started to shift Sam's head off his lap, only to stop as his brother groaned and then unexpectedly and while still asleep vomited.

Dean swore as the warm mess soaked into his jeans, and the rest wound up on Sam's shirt and Dean's leather jacket. He fumbled in the glove compartment pulling out a few napkins left over from fast food runs and used that to mop up as best he could. He tried to wake Sam up and was rewarded with his eyes opening for a fraction of a second and a slurred "D'n."

"Yeah, it's just me…I'm going to go pay for a room , but I'll be right back."

Sam didn't respond, and Dean reluctantly left. He paid for the motel room, ignoring the desk clerk's quizzical look at his vomit stained jeans and slightly blood spattered T-shirt. Thankfully the teenager didn't ask though and instead silently handed over a set of keys.

Dean went back to the car to find Sam still half-unconscious and lying in a puddle of his own urine. It took several long minutes to get Sam into the motel room. Dean took a few minutes to drop a hasty salt line and grab the main duffel from the impala then he turned back to Sam. He would have liked to leave everything till morning but what Sam would already have to wake up to was bad enough without the added reminder of it on his clothes.

He ran a warm bath, trying to ignore just how different this time was than all the times he had bathed Sam as a child. His brother was barely conscious enough to protest as Dean undressed Sam and Dean was hoping Sam wouldn't be coherent enough to remember as he peeled off his puke and semen crusted shirt and piss soaked jeans. But as he dried off his brother and all but carried him to bed he knew that Winchesters never had such luck.

Sam fell into an uneasy sleep and Dean took his own shower and settled at the motel table with a bottle whiskey and their duffel bag full of weapons. The familiar rhythm of cleaning guns helped to take his mind of things, but only marginally. He couldn't get the thought from his mind that what had happened to Sam was his fault. He should have realized Sam was drugged earlier, he should have kept Billy from taking him out the bar…there was a hundred different things he could have done that wouldn't have led to the outcome it had.

Dean slid the final piece into the gun he was cleaning and made sure the safety was on before stowing the weapon away. As he reached into the bag for another one, his hand brushed something and there was a crackle then a familiar whining sound.

He had inadvertently flicked the EMF meter back on…and it was going off again. Dean stared at the dials for a moment, red lights flickering…

but he hadn't felt any cold spots, lights weren't flickering. Everything appeared normal. Still with the meter was going off, Dean walked around the room. The EMF readings faded out near the motel room door and Dean was about to stow the meter away when they flickered back on unexpectedly. Dean hadn't done anything different except move a few steps, carefully he followed the readings until he finally found out where they were coming from.

The bathroom.

But that room was just as innocuous as the rest of the motel room. It had a cracked stained shower, a garbage bin now stuffed with Sam's ruined clothes, and a graying toilet and sink.

Nothing pointed to anything of ghostly origin.

After minutes of a fruitless search Dean chalked up the readings to either a malfunction in the EMF meter (after all it had been detecting readings in the Impala) or some weird electrical wiring of the motel. Either way, Dean turned the meter off — though just to be safe he poured a salt line at the bathroom door.

He settled down in the bed nearest the door, watching Sam sleep and hating himself for not having gotten to him in time.

O_o

Morning came all too soon. Dean was awoken by a choked sound and twisted upright to find Sam struggling with his covers. It took him a moment to figure out where he was trying to get too before his brother managed to extricate himself and dashed to the bathroom.

Or at least tried too.

He was unsteady on his feet and instead winded up crashing into the door jamb. Dean swore and moved to help, but he was too late. The after effects of whatever he had been drugged with took over, and Sam bent over throwing up on the stained motel carpet.

Vaguely he wondered what was the crunchy white substance beneath his feet and why Sam was so sick before the night came rushing back to him in horrific clarity. As he remembered it took Dean all he could not to be sick himself. "It's okay, it's okay Sammy." Dean kept his voice calm as he pulled Sam up and situated him in front of the toilet bowl.

It was minutes before Sam stopped heaving enough to sit back. Dean busied himself running a glass of water from the cracked tap—anything to stave off the inevitable question.

"Shit, I feel bad." Sam's voice was so hoarse it was barely a croak. Dean turned back to find him leaned back again the shower stall, his face pale, eyes confused as he looked up at him. "What happened?"

Dean froze at that. How did you tell your brother that he had been raped?

O_o

Sam felt like crap, his head was splitting, his body ached, his mouth felt like cotton, his throat was sorer than the last time he had gotten strep throat and his stomach still felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out.

Dean had turned stock still after his question and the seconds were stretching silently on. Something about his face said that whatever it was…was bad….very bad.

Sam tried to remember the previous night—

Sam gingerly pulled himself to his feet just as Dean was saying. "What—what do you remember?"

"Not much—" Sam started to say, then his eyes landed on the trash can in the corner of the bathroom. He could still see half-his T-shirt from last night poking out…on it was a dried whitish stain. And just like that—it was enough.

He didn't remember it all but what he did had him retching anew. When he finishes he straightens up and finds Dean staring at him, he's not sure what to say and there's nothing to say that will make any of it better. Dean is staring at him with a mixture of guilt and sadness.

And it's not his fault…none of this is his fault But Sam can't say any of that right now. He can't think about what happened last night , instead he forces himself past Dean. He can heard Dean following him uncertainly. Sam ignores Dean and instead goes to the duffels bags stashed at the foot of one bed. He has to focus on something else, anything so he doesn't have that feeling of being weak, helpless, drugged out his head and unable to even protect himself.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked sounding worried.

"Where's my laptop?" Sam asked not answering Dean's question.

"In the grey backpack, why?"

He went to the backpack, starting to rifle through it. As he searched he talked, ignoring the pain in his head, or the lasting hangover he had, trying to pretend that it's just another day…and last night hadn't happened. "So the latest info on the vics said—"

"Wait hold on we're not going to just go back to the case—"

"We are Dean—"

"Sam you were—" Sam watched as Dean faltered and changed tracts. "There isn't a case here. I told you that when you wanted to check it out…we're chasing our tails."

"Fuck you, we're not stopping this case because of me."

"I didn't say this was because of you."

"You didn't need to Dean!" Sam stood up his backpack momentarily forgotten.

"I'm not arguing you with about this."

"Good, because I'm not listening to you. We're finishing this and that's the end of it." Sam turned back to the bags , trying to ignore Dean. As he bent back towards the backpack his arm knocked into the duffel bag laying on the bed, sending the bag tumbling to the floor. Knives, holy water, and other hunting supplies tumbled to the floor.

Angrily Sam started to shove them back in only to stop as Dean crouched down next to him grabbing the EMF meter which had turned on in the tumble to the ground. Dean was staring at it with a puzzled expression.

"What?"

Dean shook his head, staring at the meter still, he made like he was going to turn it off then seemed to hesitate. Abruptly he stood up the meter still in hand.

"What?" Sam asked again.

Dean answered this time, his voice thoughtful. "The meter kept going off last night and I thought it was broken or there was some interference that was messing up the signal but today…." Dean trailed off, turning slowly and pointing the meter in one direction than another. "It's weaker, but it's definitely coming from somewhere." Sam watched as Dean slowly walked around the motel room, tracking down the source of the readings

Finally, Dean had narrowed the signal down. "It's coming from the bathroom." Sam followed curiously, as Dean walked in the signal grew stronger. The shrill beep of the meter was almost deafening in the small confines of the tiled room as it picked up the source of whatever was causing the readings. Dean looked puzzled as his eyes scanned the room, looking for an obvious source. Besides a cracked shower, the toilet and a sink the bathroom was empty.

Except it wasn't—Sam held out an impatient hand gesturing for the meter and Dean grudgingly handed it over. It couldn't be—and yet it was. Sam walked closer bending over the only other thing in the bathroom—the still full trashcan.

Sam reached in and pulled out his stained T-shirt and carried it back into the main room, confirming what he had figured out as the signal stayed just as strong as ever.

He turned back to Dean, meter still in hand. "We've definitely got a case here."


End file.
